When I stand back

against the trunk of an old

Douglas, and look up,

the blue patches of sky

shoot out

like slick tunnels through time.

Did I imagine

the smoky current… sweep under

my tipped toes, grasp

my fingertips, feather the hair

against my temple

as it pulled me away?

Where did I go

when my eyes closed in a

rush to travel?

Heart thumped against my

chest, so loud the ancient drums

pressed down each foot fall

into the unspoiled soil.

Fire ablaze,

with flames almost as tall

as the tree limbs bowed down,

to twirl me in the dance

of my ancestors.

Until a spark

of sunlight scars m...

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